


Dirty little secret

by oddishly



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-18 07:02:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21890164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddishly/pseuds/oddishly
Summary: Arthur does what he has to in order to keep the kingdom safe.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 41
Kudos: 463
Collections: Merlin Holidays 2019





	Dirty little secret

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fifty_fifty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fifty_fifty/gifts).



> fifty-fifty, I absolutely loved your prompts and had such a hard time choosing from among them so here's a smush of most of them. Happy holidays! And to [furloughday](https://archiveofourown.org/users/furloughday/pseuds/furloughday), my live-in beta and cheerleader extraordinaire, thank you. You're the best.

“Shut the window, Merlin,” said Arthur. “Pardon, Gaius, what did you say?”

“A love spell,” repeated Gaius. “A powerful one.”

Arthur stopped himself from rubbing his hand over his face, feeling that it was too early in the day to appear quite so defeated in front of any of the other array of people currently in his chambers, at least three more than Arthur felt had any reason to be there. He hadn’t even had breakfast yet. Of course that was probably Merlin’s fault.

“Sire?”

Arthur made himself turn. Leon and Gwaine were gamely holding themselves upright beside the door with the grime of the night watch all over them, Gaius stood on the other side of Arthur’s desk with concern. A serving girl was moving silently through the room with a platter of bread and fruit, Merlin hovering beside the open window.

“A love spell,” said Arthur. “Good. Good. We haven’t had one of those in a while. How many people have been affected?”

“Impossible yet to say, sire,” said Gaius. “But it seems to be spreading. I’m afraid I was distracted by the sweating sickness over the last several weeks, I missed the signs that something else was going on as well. I have asked two of the knights to conduct investigations into the lower town so I can begin to assess the extent of its reach, but I don’t think they’ll be returning with good news.” He hesitated. “I came here as soon as I received word of troubling behaviour from not only inside, but outside the citadel as well.”

Arthur stared at him. “Already?”

“It may be unrelated. Or it may be very related. And I don’t think you need me to tell you that this curse was very likely intended for you.”

When was it not. Arthur gestured for Gaius to go on.

“And with the king already in such poor health,” Gaius continued, “it would certainly be an advantageous moment for someone from outside of the kingdom to attempt to work their way into your, ah.”

“Trousers,” Merlin said, nodding.

“ _Affections,_ ” said Gaius.

“Easier to keep a watch on his trousers,” offered Gwaine from the door.

“No doubt,” said Gaius.

Arthur battled against the weary thought of once again regaling a passing servant or princess with poetry.

“No need to worry,” said Arthur, cutting Gaius off from more with as much forthrightness as he could muster. “I’ll be sure to inform you as soon as I notice myself doing anything untoward.”

“Me too,” Merlin piped up from behind him. “Always on the lookout, me.”

“If only you brought that same attitude hunting.”

“When you start making eyes at a wild boar, I’ll make sure Gaius knows that too.”

“Quiet, Merlin,” said Gaius. Good man. “This is no laughing matter.”

“Well, not yet.”

Arthur sat heavily at his desk. The snows had come early this year, and yesterday messengers had ridden in with news of Cenred’s men moving along the border. This spell…or rather curse…couldn’t have come at a worse time, and the last thing he needed was Gaius hovering over him like a nursemaid.

Inspiration struck. “Listen, Gaius. I’m glad you brought this to my attention, but—I already suspected something like this was going on. It’s embarrassing to admit, but I’ve already been—hit."

Gaius waited. So did everyone else in the room.

Beside him, Merlin was frowning. Arthur fought against rolling his eyes and kept his mouth shut.

“Well, sire? Who …?”

“Suffice to say, I’m handling it,” said Arthur. “I don’t have such poor self-control as you think.”

Gaius looked immediately disbelieving. “Your highness, I can’t help you if you’re not honest with me. I assure you, I don’t enjoy talking about this any more than you do.”

Arthur highly doubted that. “It’s Merlin.”

Merlin’s hand landed heavily on Arthur’s shoulder. Gaius fell silent.

“Merlin?” squawked Gwaine. “Not that—you’re a very good-looking bloke, of course, Merlin.”

“Oh, please,” said Arthur, then, as Merlin’s fingers tightened, “I mean—yes, he is. Very good-looking.” Relief flooded through him at how successful this idea was already proving. “It’s very inconvenient.”

“Not really,” said Merlin, and then to Arthur’s surprise, moved his hand so the backs of his fingers brushed Arthur’s neck. “It’s not like I have to do anything differently to get close to you.”

Gaius looked sharply from Arthur to Merlin. “You, too?”

“Yes,” said Merlin. Arthur struggled to keep his face straight. “I must have drunk from the same cup of wine. Or eaten from the same, er, vegetable patch. Or whatever. We do spend a lot of time together.”

“Arthur’s a bloke too!” said Gwaine. He turned from Merlin to Arthur as if he was expecting that to change.

Gaius looked very grave. “I think I must leave, sire, to work on finding the source of the curse. And then a cure.”

“I can help,” said Merlin at once. “I’m not so smitten that I can’t be helpful.” He tipped his face to Arthur as he said it and lowered his voice a little. Arthur was impressed with Merlin’s acting in spite of himself.

“Not so fast,” he said. “Gaius. Report as soon as you have an answer. Any answer. Merlin will be along shortly to help.”

Gaius looked silently at him. Arthur couldn’t decide if it was because he didn’t believe them—or one of them, and Arthur couldn’t decide which of the two of them was more convincing—or if he just didn’t like what he was hearing.

“I would very much to like to involve as few people as possible. Just you, Gaius, if you can manage it,” he said, though he’d never got very far appealing to Gaius’s vanity in the past.

“I will certainly try, but I must make inquiries if I am to discover the source of the affliction …”

“Please use discretion,” said Arthur. He glanced briefly at Merlin. “No one needs to know any of the details of my own affliction. Let us just be glad that I am not at risk of becoming enamoured of another ambitious nobleman’s daughter.”

“Indeed, sire.” Gaius’s eyebrow cracked. He turned to leave, though, so Arthur must have come over sufficiently desperate. He opened his mouth to order the knights to leave for anywhere else.

“You two, too. Out you go,” said Merlin, making shooing motions at Leon and Gwaine before Arthur could say anything. “I’m not sharing.”

Never mind. Arthur was going to throttle him.

Leon looked doubtful. “My lord, are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Really, Leon—Merlin?” said Arthur, which seemed to do the trick enough for Leon to haul Gwaine out of the room with as much haste as decorum allowed for. The door swung closed behind them, leaving Arthur and Merlin alone.

Arthur turned and narrowed his eyes at Merlin.

“What?” Merlin said, hiding in his innocent look. “You can fancy me but I’m not allowed to fancy you?”

“But I don’t fancy you, Merlin, that’s the point. What about this situation called for you to get involved?”

“Fun,” said Merlin promptly. “Did you not see Gaius’s reaction?”

Arthur grimaced. “Hard to miss him changing colour.”

Merlin appeared solemn. He put on a severe voice that Arthur supposed was meant to represent Gaius. “We can’t have you being sodomised by the serving staff, my lord. Not good for the kingdom.”

Arthur felt himself flush. “Merlin!”

“Don’t worry, it’s not like he’s going to tell anyone.”

“I hope not, for your sake. If my father tells me to chop off your head, it’ll be hard to say no.”

Merlin smiled a bit. “Wouldn’t expect you to. Now, look, this way it’ll be easier for you to pretend. If you actually fall in love with someone—because of the spell—then I’ll tell Gaius I was joking. In the meantime, he won’t bother you, and you won’t have to worry about fending off anyone else’s advances if I’m besotted with you.”

“Oh, because you’re so terrifying?”

Merlin raised his eyebrows. “I am while you’re in love with me,” he said.

Arthur couldn’t argue with that. He looked instead out of the window at the new recruits lining up in the training grounds in varying states of preparedness. Two were huddled inside the tent, sheltering from the icy wind, and another was stood at the wall talking to a milkmaid on the other side. To Arthur’s surprise, he then sank into a deep bow, plucked what could only have been a dandelion head from the ground, and handed it to the milkmaid.

“Do you think—” Arthur began, and found Merlin already standing at his shoulder. They watched in silence as the new recruit dropped his sword, scrambled over the wall, and—“Oh dear,” said Merlin—caught the girl in a kiss. They spun in an easy circle together, the girl’s legs wrapped around the recruit’s waist, his cloak pulled tight around her back, protecting her from the wind.

After a long moment, Merlin cleared his throat. “If you find yourself needing to jump into my arms at any point—”

“I’ll be sure to warn Percival to stand behind you,” said Arthur, and laughed his way out of his chambers.

The morning didn’t get any better. The amorous recruit Arthur had seen from his window wasn’t the first or even the second to give up his chance at becoming a knight on seeing a pretty girl walk by, and those left over were evidently disinclined to try any harder to prove themselves.

“Again,” he roared at the haggard-looking group following an hour of drills against strawmen, those who were already knights looking little better. “You think a bit of a breeze makes things difficult? You need to be able to do this in a blizzard.”

“Yes, your esteemed royal highness!” Gwaine hollered back at one point from the far side of the field, “but if you think—”

Luckily for Gwaine, the rest of what he was saying was lost in the gale. He gesticulated madly while Arthur waited, unimpressed. Then he dropped his arms and started blowing kisses his way.

Arthur whirled to find Merlin running towards him from the other side of the training field as the noon sun tried to break through the racing clouds overhead. Ah. Arthur made a mental note to eviscerate Gwaine later.

“My lord,” Merlin panted as he arrived. “Gaius sent me to tell you that we’ve worked out the spell. Well, not exactly worked it out, but we think we know what it is. Or might be.”

Arthur didn’t bother giving the men instructions before walking with Merlin to the tent, divesting himself of armour as they went. “Well?”

“It’s not a spell. It’s a love potion in the water. Or someone contaminated the water jugs, but that would take a lot of people and probably a lot of help from someone in the kitchens, and Cook hasn’t taken on anyone new in months,” Merlin said. “Or we’re wrong and it’s a spell carried on a north wind, but it’s probably not that. We should hope it’s not that.”

Arthur frowned. The wind was indeed in the north, had been for days, and his fingers were tingling and white at the tips after his hours spent outside. Merlin, meanwhile, was wearing a long, heavy cloak that he must have found in Arthur’s room somewhere, and he looked like he’d spent the morning warm in front of the fire, enjoying cups of mulled wine from Arthur’s stores.

Arthur said, “What do we do if it’s that?”

“Investigate.” Merlin’s expression showed what he thought about that.

Riding off into the mountains in the snow with a tent and a blanket between them and no idea of where to start looking. Arthur tried to keep his own expression neutral.

“Exactly,” said Merlin, pointedly ignoring the wind battering the sides of the supply tent.

Arthur sighed. “All right, then. Let’s go and talk to Gaius.” He stuck his head back out to shout to the men. “What are you waiting for? I told you, again. Any questions, Sir Gwaine will stay with you until midnight if necessary to show you how it’s done.”

They hurried past the knights and what remained of the knights-in-training, those who hadn’t succumbed to the weather or injury or the charms of any passers-by, and back into the castle. Arthur thought longingly about the fireplace in his chambers and avoided the corridor leading past his father’s rooms, and set a brisk pace to Gaius instead.

“Anyway,” Merlin was saying from beside him, “it’s easy to control the chicken feed and they’ll probably be hit with it quicker than humans are, so—”

A laugh drifted out from a dark stairwell as they passed; Arthur jerked to look and saw someone, perhaps two someones, duck away and out of sight, a red cloak flashing.

“Merlin,” he said once they were in the corridor outside Gaius’s chambers, and waited for Merlin to rattle to the end of his sentence. “Exactly how many people do you think have been affected so far?”

Merlin hesitated. “Best guess?”

“That bad,” said Arthur grimly. “I see. Is it Morgana?”

“It could be. Gaius thinks it probably is.”

Arthur fought against the sorrow that still rose up, and pushed open the door.

Gaius’s quarters were warm as ever. Arthur looked around, at the books strewn across the base of the bookshelf and the array of bubbling potions, and at the tome Gaius was leaning over at his workbench. It was so big that Arthur could have hidden his sword inside its pages, and the scrawl of writing was close and dense. Gaius was using a magnifying glass to read a footnote and it took a long second after Arthur walked in for Gaius to notice him. “Ah, sire—has Merlin brought you up to date?”

Arthur nodded. “A love potion in the water. Hopefully not a spell on the wind.”

“Yes. I haven’t narrowed it down yet, but I have some ideas.” Gaius looked down at the tome on his desk. “And some experiments in mind.”

Arthur tried to be patient. “And then you can cure it?”

“That depends, my lord, but I have high hopes. As I’m sure you do,” said Gaius, looking at neither Arthur nor Merlin, but in a way that was hard to ignore. “Prince Arthur, I asked Merlin to bring you here because I this would be a good time for you to take a holiday. _Away_ from the citadel. Or go on a diplomatic mission to—” Gaius waved his arms around a bit. “Northumbria.”

“I only just got back from a diplomatic mission to Northumbria,” said Arthur. “I can safely say I’ve had enough hearty feasts to last me the rest of the winter.”

“Really?” Merlin brightened, apparently labouring under the delusion that Arthur would cancel the recruits’ welcome feast. “I’ll pop by the kitchens and tell Cook tonight is off.”

“You’ll do nothing of the sort.”

Gaius ignored them and said, “Kernow, then.”

“Gaius. You know as well as I do that I’m not a tin miner. Anyway, what’s wrong with me staying in Camelot? I told you this morning that I’m already … afflicted.”

“You did.”

Arthur exchanged glances with Merlin. “Well, what’s the problem, then?”

“You tell me, sire.”

“Gaius,” said Merlin, who was suddenly a lot closer to Arthur. “Do you really want me and Arthur getting it on in front of you? Because I don’t think that Arthur—”

“No, Merlin, I do not.”

“—your patients in here, people with exposed wounds and—”

“Thank you, Merlin,” said Arthur to get him to stop. “I think we get the picture. Gaius, I assure you, you have no reason to worry. I am already—sadly—beyond saving.”

Gaius raised the eyebrow. “How fortuitous for all of us then. Fortunately, it’s just Merlin.”

“ _Fortunately_ ,” Arthur agreed sourly.

Merlin looked affronted. Arthur gave him a smirk.

Some hours later, wind still slipping under doorjambs and whipping out the fires no matter how high the logs were banked, the situation was no better. Arthur’s third meeting of the day was running very long, a motley crowd of disgruntled nobles and townsfolk from across the land reporting potholes, diseased apples, and a chronic shortage of burlap. But no more sudden love affairs.

“Prince Arthur,” said the good Lord Hexbury—Hexborough?—for the fourth time now, in that obsequious tone— _Pri_ nce Arthur—Arthur forced himself to focus. “—so few varieties of grain. And without the continued support and assistance of your good self and your father the king, my lord, we shall have difficulty replenishing our supplies and may be forced to finish out the year on rye alone.”

Arthur took a deep breath. “You have the continued support and assistance of myself and my father the king, Lord—my lord,” he said. “As you do every year.” And as Arthur confirmed and reconfirmed every year. “If it should come to it, we will send food and anything else we are able to spare.”

“Thank you, Pr—”

“It’s Camelot’s pleasure,” Arthur interrupted him before he could finish, feeling that he might not be able to hear it a fifth time. “We are always glad to be of assistance, Lord—” what _was_ it—“Heston.”

A surprised pause caught hold in the court. Arthur sighed.

Merlin was going around Arthur on his knees with a fine brush, making his outfit ready for the welcome feast, when he said out of nowhere, “Word’s getting around.”

“What _are_ you on about?”

“The curse.” Merlin gave Arthur’s calf a hearty scrub. “Lots of people hoping for meetings with you and dinners and what have you all of a sudden. _Lots_.”

“Oh,” said Arthur. He supposed that was to be expected, and tried not to feel anything in particular about it. “And where are all these people?”

“Obviously I told them that you were otherwise engaged.” Merlin looked up at him like Arthur had called him stupid. He finished brushing the stray bits of grass and dog hair off Arthur’s breeches then got to his feet. “Good enough.”

“Merlin,” Arthur warned.

“As if anyone’s really ever paying attention to what you’re wearing,” Merlin protested, but he returned to the task at hand. “Do I have to come to the feast?”

“Unless you know something I don’t,” said Arthur. He held up a hand to forestall whatever hilarious comment Merlin was going to come back with. “And remember that you got yourself involved in this mess to make life easier for me,” though he was struggling to remember why or how, right now, “not to make it easier to spill wine on my shirt or—whatever else you’ve got in mind.”

“You don’t need to tell me that,” said Merlin. “I’m always helpful. Don’t give me that look, at least I’m entertaining.”

Arthur looked from the top of Merlin’s head to the window, through which he could see rain and sleet coming in waves. He let his mind wander back towards the real question. “If this is Morgana, I don’t know what she’s planning.”

Merlin didn’t look up from buffing Arthur’s boots. “I dunno. I don’t think it is her.”

“Why?”

“It’s cruel and unnecessary if it is. I don’t want her to be cruel.”

That didn’t really make sense, but Arthur couldn’t find it in himself to disagree. He looked out of the window again, rather wishing he could spend the evening quiet and alone in his room.

“Done,” said Merlin a moment later, and rocked back up on his heels. He held out a boot for Arthur to put on, and then the other. “Really, this time. Fit for a king.”

“That’s a bold claim. Want to walk by my father’s chambers and find out if you’re right?”

“Stop stalling,” said Merlin, brushing all the displaced dog hair off his knees as he stood, and pushed Arthur gently out of the door.

They were rounding a corner out of a stairwell, Merlin prattling on about—god, was he talking about chickens again?—when he stopped out of nowhere and grabbed Arthur’s arm and spun them around so his own back was against the wall. He tugged sharply until Arthur lost his balance and fell forward, catching himself with a palm on the wall next to Merlin’s shoulder.

Merlin slid his fingers into Arthur’s hair and kissed him. It was warm and easy, as if he often kissed Arthur in corridors like this.

Then he pushed Arthur back again with both hands on his chest. “Gone,” he said.

Arthur made himself count to three. “ _What_ was that—" He caught his breath. “Oh.”

“Sorry for springing that on you,” said Merlin, and nodded in the direction they’d been walking. “It seemed like a good time for it. That was Leon at the end of the hall.”

Arthur was still recovering. “Was it?”

“Yes. Not that you’re not always very affectionate towards me—my lord—but you should try to show it to everyone else, too.”

“Fine,” said Arthur. He eyed Merlin and his surprising mouth. “Some warning, next time. And not everyone else, just the people that need to see it to be convinced. Leon and Gwaine.” He shuddered, adding, “And Gaius, I suppose.”

“Right you are, sire,” said Merlin. “Complicated, this curse, isn’t it?”

“Very,” Arthur replied.

Cook had outdone herself for the feast in a resplendent array of venison with crusty bread, lamb shanks, creamy mushroom soup, roasted vegetables heaped high, and treacle tart for dessert that melted on Arthur’s tongue. He dedicated himself throughout his meal to entertaining the recruits with tales from his own training days, helpfully supplemented by those of the other knights whenever he started to run out of steam.

He helped himself to more treacle tart and turned to the next table over.

“—so there the boy is, lying in wait in the barn,” Gwaine was saying through a broad smile, “and everyone thinks we’re done for the day, better luck tomorrow, until who other than Percival breaks out from the potato heap, dress in one hand, sword swinging in the other, shouting like he’s caught his girl in bed with the baker, and scares the poor bastard into running halfway back to Mercia.”

The table erupted with laughter. Percival was almost in tears, pounding his fist on the table and shaking the plates.

Arthur took another bite of treacle tart, picking up his wine to wash it—“Merlin!” he said, looking over his shoulder to find Merlin laughing at some joke with Leon as he refilled Leon’s cup.

Arthur went to wave his empty goblet at Merlin, then hesitated, thinking of Leon catching them kissing in the hallway. He put the goblet back on the table.

Merlin must have heard Arthur shout, because he said something to Leon that made him laugh again before stepping away and putting himself rather neatly between Leon and whatever look was on Arthur’s face. “Sorry,” he said, and leant over to fill Arthur’s cup. “Leon was telling me about—whoops!” The carafe fell from Merlin’s fingers and the white tablecloth turned red with wine.

In the commotion that followed, servants whisking Arthur’s now sodden plate of treacle tart away while Merlin heaped napkins onto the pool of wine, Merlin said quietly, “Stop worrying. Leon doesn’t care. It’s a spell, remember?”

Arthur closed his eyes for a moment. Then he leaned back in his chair and raised his voice to say, “Honestly, Merlin, I’d have more success if I was pouring my own wine, blindfolded on a ship in a storm.”

Leon laughed beside them. “I’d take that bet.”

“ _Finally_ , a day off,” said Merlin, and ducked when Arthur went to cuff him around the ear.

The following morning brought snow flurries and more reports of the curse, or love potion, or whatever it was, from across the citadel. Arthur read through the night report over his breakfast of sausage and eggs and was heartened to learn that as of yet, none of his immediate court had succumbed to their feelings—“Other than you, of course,” put in Merlin—for anyone importune, and no marriages betrayed.

He left his chambers with Merlin, determined to spend the day looking at the bright side, and immediately stumbled over one of his guardsmen locked in a passionate embrace with the granddaughter of a visiting noble just outside the door.

“For goodness’s sake—Frederick?” Arthur said, ending on a shout that startled the couple apart. “What do you think you’re doing, let go of her at once or I’ll knock your head against the wall.”

The girl shouldered her way in front of the unfortunate Frederick, holding her arms back and out to protect him. “You shan’t harm him, my lord,” she told Arthur fiercely. “And I will surely fight you if you try.”

Arthur’s jaw dropped.

“Abigail,” Frederick began, and lifted her by the waist to put her back behind him. He put both of his hands to her face and kissed her forehead. “You are—” his mouth moved to her cheek, “the brightest—” to the other cheek, “and boldest—” her forehead, “star—” her nose, “in my summer sky—”

Somehow, Abigail had lost the top three buttons of her dress, and Frederick’s belt was hanging out of its loops.

“Stop them!” hissed Merlin, breaking Arthur’s stare.

“Frederick!” he repeated, and took a deep breath when Frederick turned. “Was there—ah—a reason you were up here? A message for me, perhaps?”

Frederick looked blank. “No, sire.” Abigail curled around him to whisper in his ear, and something dawned on his face. “Yes. You need to find another guard for the jail, I’m—” his knees appeared to buckle as Abigail slipped her hand inside his trousers and he groaned, “indisposed.”

Arthur didn’t bother answering before setting off at a run for the cells with Merlin quick on his heels. The hallways were quiet for the time of day but a turn down a hallway serving a line of normally empty bedchambers soon made up for that. Arthur hurtled past, cheeks burning, and eventually they arrived below stairs.

“Well,” said Merlin once they’d run in and promptly back out of the cellblock. “That’s certainly one way to keep watch on the prisoner.”

They were down to thirty-three new recruits from forty after the previous day’s—losses. That suited Arthur, because he was also down several junior knights. Thirty-three was more than enough for him and Leon to work with for now while Percival, Gwaine and Elyan started instructing the juniors on the basics of guard duty.

Arthur spent the morning rotating the recruits through a relay of press-ups, sit-ups, and squats, incorporating swords and shields wherever he thought it wouldn’t kill anyone, largely hoping to stop anyone else from dropping out with pneumonia. The bitter north wind had dropped but the sky was still heavy and threatened further snow.

“All right,” said Arthur once the men were good and exhausted, bent at the waist with their hands on their knees or trying very hard not to show they wanted to. “Now you’ve warmed up, pay attention.” He walked them through the steps of a basic defence, nothing that could land anyone in the infirmary unless they tried exceptionally hard to put themselves there. “Partner up—hold on, who did we lose?”

The men looked between themselves and the stocky one with a deep voice raised his hand from the end of the line. Arthur racked his brain. Frank. No, Francis.

“No need for that, you’re not in school,” said Leon. “Well?”

“It’s Eduardo,” said Francis, and jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “If you go 500 feet that way, you’ll see him balls deep in that pretty—”

“Understood,” said Arthur. He raised his voice to say, “What are the rest of you waiting for? Pair up, it’s not difficult. If it is, you know the way home.”

It wasn’t that bad, Arthur thought as he walked slowly along the paltry line of men. Better to really put thirty-two men through their paces than bypass easily caught errors in thirty-three. Though he was pleasantly surprised by this group: no unnecessary competitiveness, just an honest desire to improve and succeed. That was impressive.

He was walking back down the line, trying not to think about his wet feet, when he caught sight of Merlin hurrying past on the far side of the field, his arms full of plants. Feeling benevolent, Arthur decided not to interrupt him. Then Merlin caught sight of him watching and ducked behind the treeline.

“Merlin!” Arthur bellowed, and waited for Merlin to re-emerge and make his way across the training field towards them. He took an inordinately long time about it, and Arthur made sure to get his head in a good and friendly headlock on his eventual arrival. “Took your time.”

“I think that’s your morning in the snow talking,” said Merlin to the ground, “you saw me running here.”

“Gentlemen!” Arthur shouted, releasing Merlin enough to let him stand. “You remember Merlin from yesterday. He’s my manservant.”

The recruits, all of them able to tell which side their bread was buttered, laughed uproariously. Leon gave Merlin a smile. “Hullo, Merlin.”

“Now, Merlin here isn’t much of a one for fighting,” Arthur continued. “But he somehow finds himself in a lot of battles anyway.”

“Arthur hides behind me,” said Merlin, pointing at him, and after a look at Leon to check that it wasn’t treasonous, everyone laughed again.

“Which is why it’s important that Merlin gets fighting practice, too,” Arthur declared, and grinned at Merlin. “Just like all of you.”

“If,” said Merlin, “you can catch me.” He dumped his many plants into Arthur’s arms and said in an undertone, “Gaius needs those, don’t drop them or he’ll kill you,” before dashing away.

The recruits set off after him, most leaving their weapons in the snow (Arthur noted who) but a couple of them apparently keeping their wits about them and taking the time to first consider what they might need to bring down an enemy discovered in their midst.

Arthur started collecting wooden shields from their points of abandonment in the field, trying to keep warm while he waited for the recruits to come back.

He was walking back with the last four shields under his arm when something clattered from within the supply tent. Arthur raised his eyebrows. “I’m impressed, Merlin,” he said without bothering to raise his voice. “Managed to give them all the slip.”

“Shut _up_ ,” the tent hissed. “I only just shook that great lanky one.”

“No need,” said Arthur, spotting the one head that stuck out above the hedgerow along towards the castle. “He’s running with the rest of them towards the stables. I wouldn’t take offence, it’s not your fault that you dress like a stable boy. Wait, no, that’s not right. It _is_ your fault.”

Arthur ducked through the tent flap and found Merlin crouched somewhat redundantly behind a rack of spears. His shirt had developed a number of grass stains and he scowled at Arthur when he saw him.

“There, there,” said Arthur, and dropped the shields and the plants together. “I’m sure you’ll get over it.”

“I’m not sure I will,” said Merlin darkly, and struggled to his feet. He looked at what remained of the plants, now strewn rather sadly over the ground of the tent. “If Gaius wants me to get more of those, you’re coming with me.”

“Of course I will,” said Arthur, and smirked when Merlin glowered back. “Cheer up, Merlin. Every second spent picking flowers is a day not spent being chased around by rookies with swords.”

“The last hour disproves that completely.”

“ _Hour_ ,” Arthur scoffed, “it was 10 minutes tops.”

Merlin continued grumbling under his breath as he gathered the plants. Arthur whistled and heard Leon calling off the recruits from the other side of the field. They returned together in exhausted silence to locate their weapons, traipsing back again into the castle for lunch. Merlin remained hidden. Arthur had a good idea of the quality of work he could expect of the recruits when they reappeared in the afternoon, and decided he would split the group between he and Leon and go for a nice run around the outer citadel. Just to keep them all on their toes. He opened the tent flap to tell Leon that and couldn’t see him.

“Did you see what happened to Leon?” he asked, leaving the flap open and sitting down on the bench to unlace his boots. He raised an eyebrow at Merlin, who rolled his eyes again and gently dropped his armful of plants to the ground and knelt to pick up Arthur’s other foot.

“No,” he said. “I was too busy running away.”

“Oh, yes.”

Merlin wrinkled his nose at Arthur’s boots. “Did you purposefully rub these in the mud? Wait here,” he said, and stood up again.

Arthur leaned back against the chest full of maces behind him and shut his eyes for a second. “There’s hope, Merlin. This curse might just have done me a favour, weeded out some of the more weak-minded ones from the lot.”

“I’d keep that assessment between us, if I were you,” said Merlin, now examining cleaning brushes. He selected one and turned, catching Arthur’s bemused look. “Dearest,” he said. “You can hardly keep your hands off me. Do try harder not to embarrass us.”

“Oh. Yes, good point.”

“Speaking of,” said Merlin, beginning to brush mud off Arthur’s boot. “Leon’s headed this way.”

Arthur thought about getting up to talk to him. “Is he alone?”

Merlin looked over his shoulder, craning his neck to see out. “He’s with Percival.”

Arthur hesitated.

Merlin made the decision for him. “They’re only halfway across the field. Let’s convince them. Percival was going to find out soon enough.”

“Convince them that—” Arthur waved a hand between them, ready to argue, but couldn’t find a good reason not to. No time like the present and all that. “Come here, then,” he said.

Merlin dropped the brush and got to his feet, stepping into the vee of Arthur’s legs, waggling his eyebrows. Arthur looked up at him, fighting the urge to turn and look for Leon, who he’d prefer not to be thinking about in any capacity right now. “Don’t make me regret this more than I already do.”

Merlin quirked an eyebrow at him. “Sorry sire, I’m unregrettable.”

“Good lord,” Arthur muttered, and pulled Merlin down and into a kiss. Merlin’s hands came up to the sides of Arthur’s face, fingers light as he stepped closer between Arthur’s legs. Arthur could feel him fighting not to smile. “Stop it,” he murmured into the kiss, trusting that Merlin’s hands disguised him speaking. “You’ll ruin it if you laugh.”

“I’ve got better self-control than that,” Merlin whispered back, but he stopped smiling and deepened the kiss. Arthur slid his hands into the small of Merlin’s back, holding him close where he stood.

“No, you can find Prince Arthur in the castle,” came Percival’s voice from the other side of the canvas, far too loud. His voice sounded a little higher than usual. “He’s definitely not in the tent anymore.”

He was practically shouting, presumably to protect Arthur’s dignity. Merlin pulled away, making a face at Arthur, and murmured, “Who do you think is with him?”

“I was hoping to go over that defence manoeuvre with him again,” came the voice of one of the recruits. He sounded a little bemused, probably at being shouted at. “The footwork, you know.”

“Let’s go and have something to eat first,” said Leon, also unreasonably loud, as they walked away. “I’ll tell Prince Arthur you were asking. Perhaps before you start training tomorrow morning. Arthur wakes up before dawn most days.”

Merlin mimed incredulity at this.

“That was your friend,” Arthur told him in a whisper, deciding to stick to the safe side. “The tall one.” It occurred to him that Merlin must have rumpled his hair and raised a hand to fix it, standing as he did so. It made him feel less wrong-footed. Merlin stepped back out of his space.

“You think that did the trick?” Arthur asked. He was trying to avoid thinking about what Percival must be thinking right now.

“Reckon so.”

There would be at least three more young men loitering outside his chambers with questions designed to solicit meaningful conversation with him. Arthur frowned. “You’re covered in mud, Merlin. Do you ever wash your clothes?”

“Nope, and I never wash yours either,” said Merlin cheerfully, and only escaped Arthur’s grasp because he had a head start.

Late in the evening, Arthur stretched out in front of the fire correcting speeches, Merlin at the desk drafting speeches to be corrected, there came a knock at the door.

“Elyan,” said Merlin immediately.

“Leon,” said Arthur, who knew his own men.

Merlin darted over to the door and flung it wide.

“Sire,” said Leon. Calm, dependable, ever-loyal Leon. He nodded a hello at Merlin. “Do you have a moment?”

“For you, always, Sir Leon,” said Arthur, getting to his feet. He strode across the room to clap him on the back and waved him to the table. “Come in, have a seat. What’s on your mind?”

Leon remained standing. Always ready to go, was Leon. That’s what made him one of Arthur’s best men. “Prince Arthur. Your—that is, I’m sure you can imagine that there have been questions circling about this spell. And that there is one.”

“Not necessarily a spell,” put in Merlin.

“But likely enough. Go on, Leon.”

“There are some issues we may need to resolve, my lord. If I’m honest, rumours. Usually I wouldn’t waste any energy on that, but this morning I had to put down a minor riot in the market. Apparently you are ready to marry a Saxon princess before the week is out. And if that doesn’t work, you’re considering parcelling off Camelot between Cenred and Godwin and living out the rest of your days as a goat herder.”

“It hasn’t even been two days,” said Arthur in bewilderment, then stopped. “No, never mind that. Sell Camelot to the other kings? Why would I do that?”

“Because of the Saxon princess.”

“Hmm. She must be very beautiful.” Arthur blew out his cheeks. “But I see your point. You want to put people’s minds at ease, is that it?”

“That too. But more to the point, several young ladies have found themselves with urgent business about the castle today. A not-insignificant number of those had particular business outside of your bedchamber.” Leon’s face didn’t change. “I took it on myself to resolve their concerns without troubling you, and escorted them out of the castle on a route that did not lead past the recruits’ dormitories.”

“Ah.” For the first time, Arthur wondered if his plan to just weather out this particular storm might not be as effective as he had hoped. “That was well done.”

Leon remained stoic as he said, “We need to put out word to the people—at the very least, to the residents of the citadel—about your condition.”

Arthur’s heart fell. Merlin squawked, “ _Condition_? Falling in love with me doesn’t make him _diseased_.”

Dismayed at the thought of making such an announcement, and cognisant that a week ago, he would himself have argued fervently to the contrary, Arthur grinned at Merlin. “It would explain a lot, though.”

“It wouldn’t explain anything,” Merlin replied. “For one thing, it doesn’t explain in the slightest how _I_ came to suffer from the same disease at the same time.”

“Ah, but it’s not the same, is it? Lots of people could understand falling in love with me. So dashing. So princely. With a giant…coffer of gold.”

Merlin looked unimpressed at Arthur’s many astounding attributes. “Well apparently ‘lots of people’ should try to be more like me, if they really want a chance with you.”

“Impossible Merlin, you’re one of a kind. Wouldn’t you say, Leon?”

“Certainly, sire,” said Leon patiently. “No one could say otherwise. But back to the point. Shall I draft a message for the criers?”

Arthur’s good mood vanished. He sat heavily at his desk. “All right. What exactly is it that you want to say?”

“Nothing specific. No names. Just a reassurance that while, yes, the rumours are true and there is a curse, and you’ve been affected personally, there is no reason for concern. The person whose affections you share is trustworthy. Gaius is working on a cure and you are confident that soon this affair will be nothing more than an embarrassing footnote in Camelot’s history.”

A warm hand landed on the back of his shoulder. Arthur looked up to find Merlin stood next to him. “It’s okay,” he said. “It’ll be over soon and everyone will forget.”

He left his hand on Arthur’s shoulder for a moment. Then he let go and stepped away again.

Arthur felt a little thrown. He nodded at Leon. “Very well,” he said. “Draft it but don’t distribute it until I’ve looked it over. But let’s give it a day or two.”

“Of course,” said Leon, and left.

Arthur walked back to the fire and stared at the pile of parchment piled up on the floor at his feet. He needed about a week of sleep. “Go on, Merlin,” he said, toeing the papers. “You can finish this in the morning.”

“I’m almost done,” said Merlin. Somehow he was already back behind Arthur’s desk. “You go to sleep.”

Arthur stared at him. “Where’s this sudden enthusiasm for writing speeches coming from?”

“I really don’t want to be a goat herder.”

Arthur laughed in surprise.

He stretched and looked at his bed, feeling better as he shrugged out of his shirt and trousers. He remembered something and turned back again. “What was that just now? With Leon. ‘It’ll be over soon.’” He gestured vaguely at his shoulder.

Merlin put the quill down and thought. “Appearances,” he said. “Mostly.”

Arthur nodded as he got under the covers. “All right. See you in the morning.”

When Arthur startled awake, the first thing he saw was Merlin at the desk, darning a sock. The fire was bright and crackling, and a pile of socks six inches high was tumbling off the chair beside him. The candles on the desk the night before had burned down to the wicks, the speeches rolled up neatly against the candleholders.

“Do you ever leave?” said Arthur.

Merlin was concentrating closely on the sock. He said, “Good morning to you too,” without looking up.

“I’ve never seen you darning anything before.”

“That’s because I’ve never done it before. Thought I’d try my hand at it.”

Arthur decided to ignore that one. He rolled to stare out of the window and saw frost biting at the edges of the glass. The sky was still faintly speckled with stars, and Arthur couldn’t hear any birds calling the morning in.

A log fell in the fireplace and Arthur rolled back over. Sparks flew up and for a second Merlin was bathed in gold. Then he was back to dark and pale as usual. He fastened off an end of yarn and dropped the sock beside him, and picked up another one from the pile on his other side.

Arthur pulled himself up the bed. “Seriously, Merlin. Have you been here all night?”

“Gaius’s chambers are colder than yours.”

“Gaius has a fireplace.”

“ _Gaius_ thinks I’m sharing your bed.”

“And yet,” said Arthur, gesturing at the expanse of empty bed beside him, and smirked when Merlin choked and looked up at him, cheeks red. “Don’t know what to say to that, do you?”

“Git,” said Merlin succinctly, and looked back at Arthur’s sock. “Be a bit of a giveaway if I came traipsing back to Gaius at midnight to sleep in front of his fireplace.”

Hmm. Arthur lay back against the pillow for a moment, trying to decide if Merlin really had stayed all night or if he had just gone to sleep in the antechamber. He slid out from under the covers, crossing the room to throw another log on the fire. The flame roared.

There was a knock on the door, very quiet. Merlin exchanged a look with Arthur then stood to go to the door. “Who is it?”

“It’s Rosalie, my lord,” came a serving girl’s voice from the other side. Merlin didn’t correct her. “A messenger come with a note for you, said it couldn’t wait.”

Merlin lifted the bar from the door enough to peer outside. “Thank you,” he said over her surprise at finding him instead of Arthur. He turned and looked Arthur up and down over his shoulder for no apparent reason, then turned back and said, “It’s cold this morning. Do you want to come and warm up by the fire?”

Arthur made a run for the bed.

“Oh—no, thank you,” said the girl, and turned pink when Merlin stepped aside to reveal the fire and beyond it, Arthur diving under the covers. “I’m still needed in the kitchens.”

“Are you sure? Prince Arthur is here for the service of the kingdom, you know. His castle, your castle. His chambers, your chambers. His be—”

“Merlin!” Arthur shouted.

“—his blazing fire, your blazing fire,” Merlin corrected himself.

Rosalie thrust the scroll at him and fled.

Arthur pointed a finger at Merlin. “That wasn’t funny.”

“Says you,” said Merlin, and laughed his way through the room to his socks.

The sun had started climbing. Arthur sighed and slid back out of bed, making sure to keep the covers wrapped tight around him this time while he walked to the window reading the message. It was from one of the junior knights, an enterprising lad called Alcott who had travelled to a village north of the citadel two days earlier to visit his ailing mother.

_Prince Arthur—thought you should know that that love spell is here, too. Hard to say when it started, my sister says it was going strong the day they wrote for me. Everyone in the village is in a tizzy, one way or the other, and no end in sight._

Arthur tossed the note aside to look out of the window. It was market day, and despite the snow and ice and risk of ruined honour, vendors were already trundling into the citadel with their wares piled high on carts. As Arthur watched, someone slipped and slod into the ditch at the side of the road, causing a small calamity as a crowd built up behind the abandoned horse and cart.

Something occurred to Arthur. “Did the girl,” what was her name—

“Rosemary.”

“Rosalie.” Arthur frowned at Merlin. “That answers my question.”

“No, tell me,” said Merlin immediately. “Did Rosalie what?”

“I was going to ask if you know her. And if she gossips.”

“Oh. Well, no, I don’t know her. Why?”

Arthur thought back to two days ago. “She was in here the other morning. With me and you and Gaius and Gwaine and Leon.”

“So?”

It had been cold and there was a draught running through the room, so Arthur had shut the window. Then Gaius had said _love potion_ and Arthur told everyone that he was in love with Merlin. But when did the girl leave?

“Tell Leon no training this morning, and to find spades for the new recruits to clear the snow,” he said instead of answering. “The roads are still dangerous.”

“Yes, my lord,” said Merlin, much too agreeably, halfway out of the door with his pile of socks before Arthur realised.

“And Merlin—”

“Yes, my lord?”

“Then pick a spade for yourself.”

Merlin wrinkled his nose and closed the door behind him.

Late in the afternoon’s audiences, an older, somewhat weathered-looking gentleman stepped through the crowd and said, “Prince Arthur, I’m sorry to bring bad news.”

Arthur sighed internally. He gestured the man forwards with an idea, from his melodic manner of speaking, that he was from the south. “How can I help you, sir?”

“Just John, my lord. I’m come down from the Bend,” said John, referring to a town 30 miles south of them. “I’m sorry to report that—we have a problem involving magic.” There was a rustle around the court. Everyone enjoyed hearing about magic when it wasn’t happening to them and apparently even when it was. Arthur bade the man continue. “My lord, it’s causing havoc. Folk falling prey to cupid’s arrow as it were, all over town. I was here to ask for help, but I’ve seen enough this morning already to suspect you’re already aware of the problem.”

“Very aware,” said Arthur, sharing a troubled glance with Leon. “I just learned this morning that it’s in the north, as well, although we are not sure yet how far it has travelled. But I had been led to understand the effects went no further south than the citadel.”

John shook his head. “I wish it were so.”

Whispers were rising around the room. Arthur tried to sound reassuring. “My court physician is investigating as we speak. He suspects it not to be fatal, and thinks the water has been contaminated. But he must finish conducting his experiments to be certain. You can be sure that if anyone can find the source of the thing, it’s Gaius.”

“I hope so, my lord. Half our folk have run off with the next-door neighbour and the other half’s too busy rolling round in haystacks and snow piles to come to work. And the rest of us are left running in circles, if I’m honest.”

“Got people shagging in the corridors, have you?” came the unmistakeable voice of Lady Oliva, a woman who had joined the court some years before Arthur’s birth, and the room dissolved in hastily smothered laughter.

“Precisely, my lady.”

“I see,” said Arthur. He spent a second in overwhelming relief at Merlin’s absence—Gwaine, stood behind him, did a very poor job of stifling a snort—before continuing. “Right. Well. I shall encourage Gaius to, ah, continue to devote himself to finding the cure. No stone left unturned, I assure you.”

John nodded. “Very good, my lord.”

“In the meantime—”

“If I may, Prince Arthur,” interrupted Lady Oliva, and Arthur forced himself to turn her way. She was looking at John narrow-eyed. “It seems to me that this may become a very large problem for you, my lord.”

There was a murmur of the crowd. Arthur gestured for her to continue.

“This curse, if it is indeed water-borne, must be indiscriminate in its victims. No one will notice or care if I go for a tumble in the hay with a passing Mercian,” she said, and turned her gaze on Arthur, “but everyone will very much notice if you do.”

When the floor failed to open, Arthur cleared his throat. “Thank you for your concern, Lady Oliva, but I do not foresee a problem.”

“Oh?” she said.

“I, ah.” Suddenly Arthur’s brilliant plan didn’t seem so palatable after all. He found himself loathe to tell this room full of people that, not to worry, the curse had already paired him up with his manservant.

“Beer for everyone,” said Gwaine cheerfully into the silence. “Until the curse is lifted. In case it is in the water.”

“Yes, I think so,” said Arthur, then, now feeling it could not be avoided, “I’m afraid that I am already—under the spell. And I can assure everyone assembled that I have not fallen in love with an enemy nor anyone who is of any danger to the kingdom whatsoever.”

A rush of air stirred Arthur’s shirt as everyone in the room inhaled. One or two of the ladies looked intrigued, and Lady Oliva appeared rather amused.

John’s face fell. “Then you must take extraordinary care, my lord. I have myself had to place conservatorships on my two brothers to prevent the ruin of my family, until the curse can be ended.” He halted, looking uncertain. “Of course—I’m sure that your—whoever the lady is, she is of faultless character and true to Camelot. I intend only to warn you, my lord.”

To Arthur’s surprise, before he could reply, Leon stepped forward and said, “You need not be concerned. Myself and Sir Gwaine are familiar with the person in question, and—there is no danger. Camelot is safe.”

“As is the prince,” put in Gwaine.

Finding this a good point to end on, or at least, the least bad point to end on, Arthur dismissed the court with instructions to be careful and avoid drinking the water if possible. He pulled Gwaine aside as the crowd flowed away, every head bent close together with excited whispers. He had provided the kingdom a year’s worth of gossip. “I want you to go with Elyan and escort this man back home, then follow the river south. To the mountains if need be.”

“What are we looking for?”

“You tell me. Anything interesting. Anything strange. If it’s in the water, it stands to reason that it started upstream. Keep track of how far you go before you find the next town falling over itself.” Arthur made a face. “Or until there’s a town that isn’t.”

Gwaine looked sceptical. “The mountains will be treacherous in this weather.”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way to cope. You’d better hope that whichever sorcerer is to blame lives in the foothills. Keep me updated as you go.”

“Fine.”

“But talk to Gaius first to see if there’s anything you can do for him on the way. Anything—” Arthur waved his hands around a bit. “Potiony. Et cetera.”

“Potiony. Got it, sire.”

Arthur considered the emptying room. He had the distinct feeling that things were going to get worse before they got better, and wondered glumly how long it would take for people to start shagging in corridors.

Gwaine glanced in the same direction. “What are you going to do now?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I thought I’d put my feet up for the rest of the afternoon.”

“Mmhmm. Merlin going to keep you company, is he?” Gwaine leapt away when Arthur raised a fist. “Joking, joking, sire—cor, you’re testy when you’re— _joking_ , sire—”

Arthur stopped by Gaius’s chambers on his way back from the throne room.

Gaius looked surprised to see him there. “Gwaine and Elyan just left. You might be able to catch them if you’re quick.”

“No,” said Arthur, recognising the feeling of relief at being alone for a minute and burying it immediately, feeling ashamed of himself. “Just checking in.”

“Oh. Then you’re just in time.” Gaius beckoned him over and Arthur hastened through the potions and hanging herbs, suddenly very eager to be told this was all about to be resolved. The same heavy tome as before was on the workbench, heavy bundles of grain holding the pages open. There wasn’t much text on the page this time, but there were lots of pictures of plants.

Arthur frowned and looked around. Merlin was talking to someone up in his room. Actually, if Arthur thought about it, it sounded like Merlin was talking to himself. Arthur rolled his eyes.

Gaius caught the direction of his gaze and said, “Oh. He’s got the chickens in there,” as if in explanation. He raised his voice to call, “Merlin, come out, would you?”

Merlin’s door swung open and Arthur got a waft of chicken shit as Merlin emerged and slammed the door behind him. “I still think we should have put them on the roof.” Then he caught sight of Arthur and grinned. “Nice easy morning drinking wine with the nobles, was it? Putting the kingdom to rights?”

“Better than yours.” Arthur wrinkled his nose. “Good grief, Merlin, you smell like an egg farmer.”

“There are worse things I could be,” said Merlin, and jostled Arthur’s elbow. He turned to Gaius. “Is it ready?”

“It is,” said Gaius patiently, and beckoned them both closer. He selected two vials of liquid, one in each hand. “Look,” he said to Arthur, angling the vials towards the window. “Do you see any difference between the two?”

“Ah.” Arthur squinted. The vial on the left looked like water. So did the one on the right. “No?”

“No.” Gaius held up the one in his left hand. “This is water from the well, coming up from the river, as normal.” He raised his right hand. “And this is rainwater. Now, see here. Merlin, as you suggested, please—precisely, thank you.”

Merlin came forward with a candle lit in each hand, stopping in front of Arthur with the flames at eye level. Gaius handed the two vials to Arthur. “Look again,” he said, “with the candle flame behind the water.”

Arthur stared until his eyes prickled. “I still don’t see anything.”

“No,” said Gaius, “but when Merlin closes the shutters …”

Darkness fell throughout the room. “Hang on,” said Arthur. The vial on the right hadn’t changed but the one on the left looked different. It had gone dark, like someone had dropped coal dust in and swirled it around. “What is that?”

“ _Flos hieme_ ,” Gaius pronounced, sounding satisfied. He pointed to the middle of the page, touching an illustration of a delicate blue-white flower amidst overflowing ferns. “As I thought. A troublesome and potent winter flower that blooms only occasionally, detectable on dark nights after bright days.”

“Right,” said Arthur after a moment. “And that’s interesting?”

“Very, if you don’t want to fall in love with any pretty girl that looks your way,” said Gaius, then, with that damned eyebrow again, “or manservant.”

Merlin pulled the shutters back open. “Or prince,” he said, letting the cool wintry afternoon slip back into the room.

Tempted as he was to take the rest of the day off, Arthur was long overdue time in the town. He located a handful of knights and set off for the market, still going strong in its second day.

Most of the vendors were already familiar with life in the citadel and nodded respectfully to Arthur as he walked between their stalls, encouraging him to look at their goods. The knights ambled behind, perusing warm clothing and weaponry for themselves, and flowers and scents for their wives and sisters. Halfway around, Merlin picked up a silk scarf that was blue as the midday sky and rubbed it between his fingers. “What do you think?”

“It’s a nice thought, Merlin, but it’s really not my colour.”

“I know,” said Merlin. “I already got one for you in gold and sparkly to match your crown. This is for Gwen.” He gave the vendor a gold coin.

They walked through the stalls until the sky was once again heavy and low, the wind slicing their faces. Arthur plunged his hands deep into his pockets, torn between returning to the training fields and what he didn’t want to do in the castle.

Merlin stomped his feet to warm them. “Are we done now?”

Arthur rolled his eyes and took his own scarf off and swung it around Merlin’s neck. Mindful of Percival watching from the other side of the street, he stepped up close to tuck the ends into Merlin’s shirt, avoiding Merlin’s gaze until he was done. His fingers brushed Merlin's neck and he said, “There. Any other servant would be giving me his scarf, you know.”

Colour was already coming back to Merlin’s cheeks. “You should see the look on Percival’s face,” he said, then, “no, stay where you are, he’s still watching.” He paused and caught Arthur’s eye. “Ah. Thank you.”

“Your teeth were chattering,” said Arthur. “It was distracting me.”

Merlin’s eyes crinkled. “Paying attention to my mouth, now?”

“Hard to ignore it,” said Arthur, looking over Merlin’s shoulder at the market. The vendors were starting to pack up, giving in to the snow now starting to fall again. “You never stop talking.”

“Need some ideas for how to shut me up?”

Arthur coughed in surprise. Merlin waggled his eyebrows, looking rather smug. Arthur couldn’t have that. “You know, Merlin, I can only imagine how much you’ll be complaining if you get a cold from kneeling in the snow for me,” he said. “I also have a perfectly good and extremely dull council meeting in the throne room every week. You could put a cushion down.”

Merlin went very red. Arthur eyed him. “Put some thought into it,” he said, taking his gloves off and thrusting them against Merlin’s chest. “Now go and get another one of those scarves for Guinevere from me then see if Gaius needs any help. And make sure I’ve got a bath ready tonight.”

“Where are you going?”

Arthur took a deep breath and looked up at the castle behind them. “Back to the castle. I think it’s time I told my father what’s going on.”

Merlin said, “Oh.” After a moment’s hesitation, he reached out and put his hand to Arthur’s newly bare arm, fingers curling lightly around his wrist until he took his hand away again. “I’ll haggle the woman down and get a pink scarf for you to wear, too,” he said.

The king’s chambers, always dark and rarely occupied before the last year, were warm and lit with candles in every corner. Arthur lingered at the door before closing it quietly behind him.

“Arthur,” said Gwen, and stood to look at him. She had a washcloth in her hand, a bowl of gently steaming water at her feet, and Uther was lying peacefully in his sleep.

“Hello, Guinevere,” said Arthur. “Is it okay if I come in?”

“Of course. Of course! I was just—I thought I would try to get him to eat something. Yesterday at dinner he had a bowl of parsnip soup. I thought it might have stirred his appetite.” Gwen smiled at Arthur. “It’s more than he’s eaten in ages.”

“That’s good,” said Arthur. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“He’ll be happy to see you,” Gwen told him. “I’ll leave the two of you alone, I have this washing to take care of.”

Once, Arthur would have told her not to leave. That was a while ago, though, and Arthur wasn’t in love with Gwen anymore but he didn’t want to hurt her. This seemed like the sort of conversation he didn’t need to have with anyone but his father.

“Thank you, Gwen,” he said with a smile, and carried the laundry basket outside for her before returning to the window beside the bed. He leant up to the glass to hear the clamour of the market carrying over the rooftops even with the layers of snow dampening the sound, which made him feel better. The snow was glittering brilliantly, flying up in little clouds as the breeze struck, and one of the servants, a long way down below his father’s chambers, was shivering as she took sheets down from a washing line.

Someone Arthur recognised as a particularly talented carpenter was walking along the other side of the path with a wheelbarrow piled high with chairs, and as Arthur watched, before he could open the window and shout, the topmost chair teetered and swayed before crashing off the pile and through the sheets. The girl on the other side shrieked and fell.

Arthur cranked the window open and leaned out as far as he could to check she was okay; the carpenter had dropped the wheelbarrow and was struggling to free her from the sheets that had come tumbling with her. “So sorry, miss,” he kept repeating, the words floating up to Arthur on the wind. “Didn’t see—knew I was taking a risk with that last—”

Arthur leaned out further when the words stopped abruptly. He couldn’t see what was happening, another flurry of snow was whirling up right where the girl had fallen. Arthur shouted, “Everything okay down there?”

A giggle, then a moan, made its way into the room, loud enough to carry even from so many floors below. Arthur squinted then realised what he was listening to. He pulled himself back inside and slammed the window shut.

“Arthur?”

Arthur jumped and turned. His father was pulling himself up on the pillow, coughing a little as he did so.

“Father. How are you feeling?”

Uther moved his hand in a gesture that Arthur well understood to mean _stop fluttering._ “I’m fine.”

Arthur sat in the chair beside the bed and resisted the urge to bring the blankets up around his father’s shoulders. The room had gone cold again from the open window.

“How is the kingdom?”

“Snowy,” said Arthur. He shuddered for emphasis and felt heartened when Uther’s mouth curved. “And cold. The hopefuls are suffering but Leon is putting them through their paces.”

“Good,” said Uther. “You’re too easy on them.”

“Not this year, I can promise you that.” Arthur pulled his chair closer to the bed. “Father, I have to tell you about something that’s been going on.”

Uther pulled himself higher up the pillows. “What is it?”

“It’s magic,” said Arthur. “We began receiving reports of a love spell, or curse, three mornings ago. And it’s chaos and it’s getting worse. We’ve lost more than half of the new recruits to passing girls and the servants who haven’t been afflicted are struggling to keep up.”

Uther frowned. “Then you must replace them. Such—suggestibility, I suppose—won’t do with such proximity to you and the court.”

“I agree,” said Arthur, “but Father, even if I was in a position to do so right now, consider. No one is to blame for suffering a magical attack. I couldn’t resist it.”

Uther looked sharply at him. “Are you affected?”

Arthur hesitated. Decisions, decisions.

“No,” he said at last. “I’m fine.” He made himself hold Uther’s gaze, narrow and dark, and tried not to think about Merlin. “Gaius thinks it’s because of a flower. He thinks it’s waterborne, and likely has its effect when ingested. The pattern of people suffering its effects suggests it is travelling downstream.”

Uther nodded. “What have you done?”

“Two knights are travelling south to investigate further. Gaius believes it’s this flower, but if that’s the case then we need to isolate its location. For all we know, someone is growing it in their garden. Or,” Arthur said, trying to keep his father away from the prospect of another malicious sorceress, “it could just be growing along the river somewhere. Or Gaius could be wrong, and they’ll find someone who can point to a sorcerer. Unfortunately, of course, there is little we can do to stop people from drinking the water. We’re making do with weak beer and melting snow, where possible, but Cook is … not pleased.”

Uther’s expression made clear what he thought of that. Arthur had to agree.

“Very well. I trust you will do what is best.” Uther made a desultory gesture. Arthur realised he was losing interest. “Keep me appraised of the situation.”

Arthur walked into his rooms in the evening to find his bath steaming in front of a blazing fire, snow built up against the window on the outside of the ledge, and Merlin on his knees lighting candles from the flames.

“There are messages for you,” Merlin said, and gestured behind him to Arthur’s desk.

There were three messages. The first was in a tight curl, a ribbon wrapped around the middle and water marks all over it as if from snow. Arthur shook it open.

_Prince Arthur—left John in his village this morning. Everywhere we passed through on the way has been affected to some degree. That said, the further upstream we go, the more the effects seem to be lessening. Perhaps the poison can wear off. Gwaine and I are continuing upstream. He wants you to know he’s been successful in stopping women from falling in love with him but it’s taking an emotional toll. –Elyan_

Arthur snorted. He tossed the paper into the fire and looked at the other two letters.

They both came from the south, in the farmland between Camelot and the Bend. The first came from an old nurse of Arthur’s, an affectionate and quick-witted woman who had cared for him until her brother took a fall from his horse and could walk no longer. She still wrote to him with news, and at the turn of the year would send gifts and pastries.

Her letter began with stories of her nephews, all of whom were under ten years old, and Arthur read quickly until he reached a comment halfway down. _A strange affliction has hit the town, and there is not a single unmarried man who has not made a fool of himself with the girls. Your father would be very displeased to see it._

Arthur frowned at this. Looking down, he noticed a scroll he’d missed before, catching it as it rolled off the edge of his desk. It was Leon’s draft of Arthur’s announcement to Camelot.

"People of Camelot, rumour must be put to rest. As you have doubtless seen with your own eyes, there is a sickness passing through our land, the likes of which has rarely been seen before. It is powerful yet benign and appears to pass through water. Be it potion or witchcraft, we know not yet, but sleep sound in your beds knowing the court physician works tirelessly to discover the root of it. No deaths have been reported, and we hope to soon find a cure. Prince Arthur has been afflicted. But he is by no means compromised of mind, or in the clutches of an enemy or foe. He shares affection with a known member of the court, a trusted confidant, and it shall not affect the workings of the kingdom at home or abroad."

Arthur took a deep breath and looked for something to write with, planning to tell Leon to send the message out to the criers the following day. Then he thought of something and said, “Merlin,” beckoning him over and passing him the little scroll, hoping that his expression conveyed a question.

Merlin read it over quickly and looked at Arthur again. “Best to keep them wondering,” he said, but he nodded before handing it back again.

Arthur wasn’t totally sure why he’d done that, other than that it seemed thoughtless to give the kingdom details about his and Merlin’s romance without involving Merlin. He caught the odd smile that flashed across Merlin’s face and thought it might be there on his own face too.

Merlin returned to muttering over the struggling fire. Arthur turned to the final message, a monthly report from a little way outside of the city, and amidst the list of weather troubles and grain supplies was a single line that read: _Possibility of magic._

Arthur thought for a moment. He said, “This potion,” and waited for Merlin to turn before continuing. “It must be extraordinarily strong for it to have had such a great effect on so many areas at once. This,” he lifted the report, “means that the villages all along the river and at least as far as the mountains have all been affected within days of each other.”

Merlin stared at him. He looked as bemused as Arthur felt. “That’s impossible. The mountains are fifty miles from the citadel, no potion is strong enough to last from the Bend. Someone must be travelling with it.”

Arthur raised his eyebrows at him. “Frankly I’m at a bit of a loss. If it’s travelling along the river, we can only assume it will move past the citadel at some stage. If we start receiving reports of it from the north, that’s another hundred miles to investigate. We can’t possibly cover that in winter.”

Merlin made a face. “We could just wait for it to travel the distance to the sea in the north. It’s obviously moving quickly, we can wait it out.”

“We don’t know that that will be the end of it. I don’t know if the effects will change to something still more sinister. And you forget that we neither of us are actually under this spell. We will only know about any change until we are told of it by someone else. We’ll have to react quickly.”

Merlin took a deep breath and blew it out again, then said, “Start with your bath. Nothing you can do about this now.” He went to the fire with a nod at the window, snow still piling up against the glass. “And nothing you can do about it tomorrow either if you’re too tired to do anything.”

“All right,” said Arthur, and put down his sheaf of papers on the desk. He stretched, sparing a moment to think of his knights traipsing up the river, and hoped for their sake that they had made it to an inn in which to spend the evening.

He pulled his shirt over his head and turned. Merlin, still at the fire, was kneeling to test the temperature of the water with one hand. He caught Arthur’s eye and without moving said, “Ready when you are.”

He had a look on his face that Arthur didn’t recognise. Arthur waited for him to say something but at last he just blinked and went to stoke the fire, and Arthur took the opportunity to remove his breeches and slip into the water. His muscles relaxed all over his body as he did so.

“What did your father say when you saw him?” Merlin asked unexpectedly. Merlin was not very given to talking about Arthur’s father.

“He’s the king, Merlin. He was concerned.” Arthur thought back to that languid wave as their conversation ended and swallowed. He let his gaze flick back to the fire and again found himself relieved that Merlin was still turned away. “I didn’t tell him about…” He let Merlin figure the rest out on his own. “It didn’t seem like a good idea.”

“No,” said Merlin. “I can’t imagine it did.” He stood, that same unfamiliar expression on his face. Arthur felt like he had earlier at the market when Merlin had blushed.

A knock on the door. Merlin’s face shuttered. “Who is it?” he called.

“I have a message for Prince Arthur.”

“Come in,” said Arthur, and when the stable boy did so, waved for Merlin to retrieve the note from him. “Thank you,” Arthur said, “and sorry for—” he gestures at the bath, making sure to stay deep in the water as he did so.

“Yes, my lord. That’s okay, my lord,” said the boy, appearing determined to look at neither Arthur nor Merlin. “Will that be all, my lord?”

“That’s it,” said Arthur, and took the note from Merlin as the door shut. He frowned. “This is Percival’s handwriting.” He read, then dropped the note down carefully beside the bath.

“Well?” said Merlin, who was still close. “Is he okay?”

“He writes to ask for permission to marry Lisabette,” said Arthur in an even tone. “The baker’s daughter. Apparently she has the grace and dedication of a greyhound and an intellect to challenge the cleverest people in my court. Any bard would fail to describe her beauty, and, um—”

Merlin snatched up the note and continued, “and her passion and fervour in Percival’s bed can only be described as—you know, Arthur, you and me need to step it up a notch. Or three.”

Arthur eyed him. “You _want_ to be described as ‘an insatiable strumpet, an unforgettable ride’?”

“I have been,” said Merlin, straight-faced. “Not by you though, and that’s what counts.” He dropped the note to the floor again. “I’m going to tell Gaius about this. I’ll come back when you’re done,” he said, and left Arthur alone with his thoughts.

Gwaine and Elyan returned two days later, during which time Arthur had walked in on every servant or other resident of the castle whispering in corners. He supposed that meant his original plan was working, although it was hard to keep spirits up when the mood about the castle was so tense among those now doing twice the work to keep things running as usual.

He spent the morning putting the recruits through their paces—now down to twenty-six, to which Arthur attributed the overnight arrival of a small troupe of acrobats seeking the king’s patronage. Arthur hadn’t seen a somersault or the throw of a knife since their arrival the night before, although Merlin was happy to report that hearts were tumbling in at least two of the guest bedchambers. “And when I say hearts—”

“Yes, Merlin. I got that far on my own.”

Taking an early lunch in a pantry off the kitchens, hoping to bypass the ladies still, inexplicably, vying for his attention, Arthur was working through a lengthy treatise on new approaches to battlements when he caught the sound of horses. Soon after, Merlin slipped into the room and said, “Arthur. Gwaine and Elyan are back. I don’t think they should come here, they’re still not affected and, well, why risk it?”

Arthur couldn’t agree more. “Have them wait in my quarters. I’ll be along shortly.”

One of the kitchen boys ducked into the room and made for the row of potato boxes as Merlin hurried away. He gave first Merlin, then Arthur, an odd look before catching himself and backing out again with a, “Very sorry to intrude, Prince Arthur.”

Arthur left and took the stairs two at a time, narrowly avoiding Lady Oliva with one of the acrobats—the man was young enough to be her grandson—barricading themselves into her chamber, and when he got to his own rooms found Gaius talking with Leon to Gwaine and Elyan.

“Hello, Prince Arthur,” said Gaius in greeting, and the others turned to nod their respects.

“Report?” said Arthur in lieu of a hello, then saw what had previously been hidden behind the knights. “What’s all this?”

A table off to the side of the room was strewn with a number of vials of water, each with a ribbon around its neck. The ribbons all had numbers scribbled on them.

“They’re samples from the river,” said Gwaine. “We took one every few miles.”

“I see. Every few miles from where to where?”

“Look,” said Elyan, and beckoned Arthur closer. He had a map of Camelot held open, a vial of water at every corner. “After we left John, we continued riding up into the mountains,” he said, tracing the river down from the citadel with his finger. “Until the ride became too treacherous. Then down into the villages on the other side.”

“What did they say?”

“No idea what we were talking about,” said Gwaine, a hint of success in his voice. “We went to all three of these,” he pointed at the villages on the map, “to be certain. All anyone knew of a curse like this came from folklore.”

“And did you discover any sorcerers?” Arthur asked, feeling the question somewhat futile but with no desire to let that show on his face.

“None that we could find, sire,” said Elyan. “We met a couple of oddballs, to be sure, but no one who tried to kill us or, well, anything else.”

Arthur nodded. He looked at the window, rain beginning again on the glass. If he squinted, he could see the starlings flying south, sweeping through the clouds like a brush stroke.

He looked back at the knights. “Meanwhile,” he said. “Gaius has confirmed that the river downstream is clear. It seems to have stopped here in the citadel—for now, at least.”

Gwaine looked considering. “That’s still more than fifty miles of river just to get from the source to the citadel. This spell must be very powerful.”

“Or very numerous,” Leon suggested. “Who’s to say it’s not a concerted effort?”

“Or just one person travelling upstream,” said Elyan. He glanced at Gwaine. “That would fit with the stories.”

Arthur grasped at this. “What do the stories say?”

“Nothing very useful,” Elyan replied. “There’s a fruit, or sometimes a flower, that is native to these mountains. A lonely water sprite carries the fruit from the source of the river to the sea, hoping to find a lover along the way. Chaos ensues.”

Arthur fixed Elyan with a look. “And that’s not useful because?”

“No one mentioned a cure,” said Elyan. “Or how to make it stop. More of a wait and see sort of situation. An old woman said it sounded like a story _her_ grandmother told her as a child, about a summer that brought many children to the village.”

“She said she liked the story better when she got old enough to extrapolate,” said Gwaine. He picked up one of the vials of water and held it at eye level, rocking it between his thumb and index finger. “She actually sounded a bit disappointed she couldn’t come and meet the water sprite herself.”

Gaius pulled the vial from Gwaine’s fingers, looking unimpressed. “I’d be careful with that, if I were you.”

“No need,” said Gwaine with a swoosh of his hair. “I'm already in love. The water sprite would be wasting her time on me.”

Gaius looked thoughtful at this and said, "You know, Gwaine, you may very well be right about that. I wouldn't be surprised if this turned out only to have an effect on those already unattached--or," he amended, evidently catching the flicker that passed over Gwaine's face, "whose heart lies with another." 

Gwaine looked rather pleased with himself. Arthur wondered who it was that had Gwaine's heart, rather surprised that he hadn't heard anything of this before now.

Gaius picked up two of the vials of water and continued. “Sire, I’m going to take these back to my chambers, if you don’t mind, and test for the flower I told you about—yes, Elyan, the very same as the one you just told us about. Although I suspect the water sprite was simply a fancy.” He looked at the sky through the window, brilliant with grey cloud. “It may need to wait until dark this evening.”

“Please do,” said Arthur. “Do you need help taking these downstairs? Where’s Merlin?”

Gaius opened the door to Arthur’s chambers and called out to a passing servant. She came inside and on Gaius’s instruction, gathered the water carefully and left with him.

Gwaine peered around. “Nevermind Merlin--here, where’s Percival?”

“Meeting the water sprite,” Leon replied with a bit of a smile. “That is, the baker’s daughter.”

“Is he, now,” said Gwaine. He was less entertained by this than Arthur had expected, his grin not quite making it. He looked at Elyan, who rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yes?” said Arthur.

“Word has … gone around,” said Elyan, looking anywhere in the room but at Arthur. “About your own. Feelings.”

Oh. Arthur swallowed a grimace. “That’s what happens when I make an announcement. That’s actually the idea behind making announcements. Everyone knows about it. My people like to know what’s going on with me, sometimes.”

“That’s not all people have heard,” said Gwaine. “Everyone seems to know quite a bit more than that.”

Arthur had long ago made peace with the fact that the details of his life would be on display for its duration, and even more aware that this current public affair was his own idea. That wasn’t much of a comfort then, though, three trusted knights all carefully listening for his response.

He turned and found a footstool just behind him. “Really,” he said, pulling the stool across the floor and sitting on the top step. He propped his chin on his fist. “Tell me more.”

Gwaine gave Arthur an undecipherable look. “Apparently you just can’t keep your hands off Merlin.”

“Is that so?” said Arthur.

They all turned when the door swung open and Merlin appeared, hair wild, cheeks rosy with the cold, and Arthur buried a glad feeling down deep. He wished everyone else would be gone.

“Speak of the devil,” said Gwaine, far too jovially.

“Merlin,” said Arthur. “Where have you been?”

“Oh, here and there,” said Merlin. He seemed to catch something of Arthur’s mood and continued. “That leggy recruit got himself in a bit of tangle with his armour.” He pulled off his scarf—Arthur’s scarf—and cloak, leaving them in a trail across the floor as he crossed the room. “I gave him a hand.”

Without a glance to spare for the others in the room, Merlin hauled Arthur to his feet with both hands in his shirt and kissed him. His lips were chapped from the wind, and his fingers were icy even through the shirt. Arthur leant into it, eyes closing. Something bright and warm ran through him, no matter how hard he tried to bury it down.

They pulled apart when the door swung open again. It was the servant, back for the remaining vials. “Excuse me, my lord,” she murmured, slipping between Arthur and the knights to get to his desk, and was gone a second later.

Merlin drew back but not far. He left one hand on Arthur’s chest and turned to look at the knights without the slightest hint of embarrassment. “You’re back!” he said to Gwaine, who was looking their way with some amusement, and Elyan, who was staring hard at the floor. “Anything happen on the way?”

“All sorts,” said Gwaine. “You?”

Arthur interrupted before Merlin could get it in his head to describe the circumstances of every kiss from the last week. “No,” he said firmly, and got a narrow-eyed look from Merlin in return that told Arthur that that was precisely what Merlin had been planning. “As I told you,” he said to Gwaine, “I’ve been taking it easy.”

“You’re no fun,” Gwaine told him, and laughed when Arthur caught Merlin’s hand trailing low down his chest.

They were down to twenty-one recruits at practice the next morning. It did not go well, and those who remained were in low spirits.

“Again,” Arthur roared, wholly tired of watching the blindfolded recruits fall over themselves in the rain. “You’ve got brains in your heads, use them. You’re not always going to be able to see what’s coming at you and when it does, you can be damned sure that whatever it is won’t be using wooden swords.”

“Prince Arthur?” said one of them hesitantly, facing a long way off to Arthur’s left. “Can we—”

Arthur shut his eyes, ignoring the rest of the question. He shouted, “Blindfolds off,” as soon as the recruit was done speaking. “I realise this is hard. Nevertheless, that is why you are here. Leave the blindfolds off and do it again.”

None of the recruits returned to their practice, however, a loud silence falling instead. Arthur said, “What in god’s name is it now?” and turned to find Merlin approaching from the direction of the forest, hastening with a basketful of vials towards the path that skirted training grounds.

Arthur caught the wide-eyed looks going from him to Merlin, and at those who had their backs carefully turned away, now fighting as if their lives depended on it. Which they would, one day, and every man at Arthur’s back would fall because some time long before they’d been too distracted by Arthur’s love life. Arthur himself had long been trying to make peace with that.

Arthur spun around and let his sword fall to the muddy earth, then shouted, “Merlin,” across the field.

“Sire?” said Leon, looking from Arthur to the recruits, now fixated on Arthur to a man.

“Get them out of here,” Arthur snapped at him. He shouted, “Merlin!” again, and didn’t spare the recruits another glance before stalking through the snow to catch up to Merlin halfway along the edge of the field.

“What’s the—” Merlin started, before cottoning on with a glance at the staring recruits. “Arthur, really? Here?”

“It’s what they expect,” said Arthur, bitter anger rising with sadness in his chest. The rain would be dampening their words so that the recruits would hear nothing. He caught Merlin’s gaze. “It’s what they already think is going on. But I won’t stop you leaving.”

Merlin tossed the basket he’d been carrying aside without a look and an array of vials fell clear, tumbling out of the basket and rolling through the mud. Merlin ignored them and caught Arthur in a kiss. His hands went at once to Arthur’s waist, mouth opening against Arthur’s.

They were pressed together at the edge of the training field, the slate wall at Merlin’s back letting Arthur keep him where he wanted him as rain ran down their faces. He kissed Merlin until he couldn’t breathe, holding him close against the wall, his heart going fast as he realised he could feel Merlin’s cock against him.

“Thought we agreed on some more warning than this,” Merlin muttered, dragging Arthur’s chain mail up and over Arthur’s head before dropping it into the snow at their feet, and yanked Arthur back close to kiss him again. Arthur was finding it hard to care about the audience.

“This is all you’re going to have,” he said. He let out a rush of breath as Merlin scraped his teeth down his neck. “Get used to it.”

Merlin spun them again, shoving Arthur back against the wall. Then he got his fingers in the laces of Arthur’s breeches, pulling at the ties. Arthur hissed, feeling Merlin’s fingers brush against his cock through the material. He wanted to push Merlin back and suck his way down.

“Are they watching, sire?” said Merlin against Arthur’s neck. “They should be.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, I am,” said Merlin, making his way at last into Arthur’s breeches. “You’re very—”

He cut himself off. Arthur found that he didn’t care about discussing the recruits, waiting very much instead to hear the end of the sentence, all impatience and wanting. “Very what?”

“Hard,” breathed Merlin, and wrapped his fingers around Arthur’s cock. Arthur’s knees buckled and he let himself fall back against the slate wall, eyes closing. Merlin’s fingers were steady and sure.

Arthur found Merlin’s mouth again, kissing him hard. He wanted to hear that break in Merlin’s voice again, to stay where they were at the rainy wall, Merlin’s hand slowly tugging on Arthur’s cock, Arthur’s hand around Merlin’s neck.

Their mouths were pressed heavy together. Arthur thought about what he wanted and what the recruits had already seen, and rolled them back again so Merlin was pushed against the wall. “You should be ready for anything,” he said into Merlin’s mouth. “You're interrupting training, after all. Poor form, Merlin.”

“I'll bear that in mind,” Merlin said, and groaned as Arthur sank gradually to the ground between his legs. The snow was packed tight on the earth under his knees, the cold keeping him alert instead of letting him give into the dizzy, heady feeling of doing this with Merlin.

Merlin’s breeches were easier to get into than Arthur’s, and it only took a moment for Arthur to pull them open. He took a breath and leaned in, licking the head of Merlin’s cock once or twice before taking the whole of the head into his mouth.

“God,” said Merlin. “Arthur—”

Arthur hummed in acknowledgment. He tried going lower, pulled off a bit to breathe, then went down again.

“Arthur,” said Merlin again. “This is. Are you—”

“Shut up,” said Arthur. He reached into his breeches to pull on his own cock, sucking Merlin’s back into his mouth at the same time. He pulled off again. “Something you don't like?”

“Nothing,” Merlin managed. He grinned down at Arthur. "Keep going." He put his hands on both sides of Arthur’s head, pulling him back down his cock, thrusting into Arthur's mouth.

Arthur thought he must be getting close and scraped his teeth a little, just to see. Merlin groaned and came into Arthur’s mouth without warning. Arthur opened his mouth as wide as he could and fisted his cock harder. Merlin’s whole body was jerking against him as he came, and he was fucking Arthur’s mouth, both hands still on the back of Arthur’s head. Arthur swallowed everything Merlin gave him, and shut his eyes as he came.

The rain was falling heavier when Arthur climbed to his feet and adjusted his clothing. He turned his face up to the sky and decided not to turn around just yet.

Merlin’s face was very red as he pulled up his own trousers. He said, “If there’s one thing Leon’s definitely clear on, it’s that you’re the prince and I’m your overworked manservant.”

Arthur was surprised into a laugh and shoved Merlin's arm. “You’re only overworked because you work so hard at getting out of doing anything.”

“And now I find my roster expanding,” said Merlin. He tilted his head to the side and frowned. “I suppose it’s a joint effort.”

“Yes. Somehow I’m managing though.”

“Oh, I’m not complaining,” said Merlin, gaze falling to Arthur’s mouth.

Arthur was summoned to Uther’s chambers again later in the day. He left his horses where they were, tossing the reins to the stable boy as he passed. Then he made his way up the stairs.

“Hello, Father,” said Arthur quietly when he came inside.

Uther was sitting at the window, a blanket and a book at his knee. The remains of a lunch plate sat on the table, a small, empty soup bowl and nothing left of the sandwiches but bread crusts. A thread of happiness wound through Arthur at the sight.

“Arthur,” said his father. “I’ve been hearing things that trouble me.”

Arthur considered which of the day’s developments this might refer to. “Yes, my lord. We are struggling still to find a way to end to this curse, and Cenred's men continue to move on their side of the border. I have sent knights to assess the situation, but at this stage we can only hope the treaty will deter any idea of invasion.”

“Cenred's men do not have the grit for a winter invasion. No, that’s not what troubles me.”

“What, then?” said Arthur.

“I woke feeling more myself this morning,” said Uther. “And left my chambers for a time to walk a little of the castle before the activities of the day began.”

Joy glowed in Arthur and he said, “I’m delighted to hear that, Father.”

Uther made a quelling gesture. “As I walked, I passed two squires gossiping at their posts. I certainly hope your standards for the defence of the realm have not fallen so far as they appear to have within the castle. Who knows what I could have heard had I remained out of sight for ten minutes more.”

Joy vanished. “I will see to it that the men are reprimanded. We have been stretched rather thin for the last week, my lord.”

“I hope your excuses give you comfort after you lose the kingdom,” said Uther. “As I was saying. What I overheard from the men was deeply concerning. They appeared to suggest that not only has a large part of the kingdom lost their heads as a result of this curse, but that you—the Crown Prince—had been afflicted with some unfortunate love affair as well. That you had made a fool of yourself in public. Of course, I knew that could not be true as you had told me yourself that you were unaffected, so I confronted the men and reminded them of the penalty for treason.”

Arthur drew a harsh breath. “I’m sorry. Father, I didn’t want you to be concerned for me—it’s true, there is someone, but it doesn’t matter. It’s no one who would bring harm to the kingdom, or to me. I have it all under control.”

“Is that so?” said Uther, thinly-veiled rage in his voice. “And what of Camelot’s reputation, do you care so little for that? Who are you promised to? Camelot will need a queen, whose daughter is she?”

“It’s not—we tried to keep it secret,” Arthur said, pressing his hands flat against his legs to hide his shaking. “I informed the people that I had been hit by the curse as so many others had, but not that it was—”

“Well?” said Uther when Arthur cut himself off. “That it was what?”

Arthur closed his eyes and said, “Merlin. My servant.”

Uther was silent. Arthur dared to glance at the window and saw in the glass how he himself was standing, hidden away in the shadows. He forced himself to straighten his shoulders.

“You always have been too fond of that boy,” Uther said at last without looking at him. “Good lord.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” said Arthur again. “I didn’t mean to keep something so important from you, it seemed unnecessary but I see now that I was wrong.”

Uther gave him a disdainful look. “You’re telling me that you’re in love with him? With Merlin.”

Arthur didn’t know what the right answer was here. He made himself hold Uther’s eye and said, “Yes. I'm in love with him. It’s a curse, Gaius is working on the cure.”

“And yet,” said Uther silkily, “here you stand, very well able to hold a conversation without bursting into foolish rhapsodies or requesting his hand.”

Arthur bowed his head.

The door opened and Guinevere slipped into the room with a pile of fresh sheets. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, seeing that Arthur was still inside. “I’ll return later.”

“No,” said Uther. He waved at the lunch plates on the table. “Do you not see that I need attending to? Arthur, see to it that Gaius continues to work on finding the cure. I’m sure I shall receive my news of his progress from the squires.”

Arthur caught Gwen’s eye, trying to convey regret, or something that felt like fellow feeling. She gave him a reassuring smile in return.

He walked outside and a short way down the corridor, around the corner where he couldn’t see his father’s room anymore. This part of the castle was always quiet, and the squires who should have been standing guard were, he realised, probably in the jail. Arthur put a hand to the window, letting the cold seep through his fingers as he stared through at the rain. Someone was trying to conduct repairs on their roof, working with the thatch from underneath a sweep of heavy fabric that wasn’t quite large enough. Arthur looked closer, trying to determine which of the inexperienced knights was doing the same thing on the other side of the building, and realised he could see someone else behind his reflection.

He spun. Merlin was sitting with his back against the wall in the alcove that usually held the squires. He looked silently up at Arthur.

Arthur fought against a rush of emotion, some tremulous thing in his chest that hurt. He turned back to the window, pressing his open palm to the glass. “For god’s sake, tell me you know how to end this.”

Merlin clambered to his feet and came to stand beside him. He waited until Arthur had got himself under control and then said, “Gaius confirmed it’s the flower. The effects should have faded by now though, it seemed to take no more than a week everywhere else. It doesn’t seem to be lessening here. He thinks the flower must have been caught and will continue until we find it. He said we should start by checking the waterways.”

“Very well,” said Arthur without moving away from the window. “We should seek it out at once.”

“Sire?”

“Merlin, I’m sorry that you have had to suffer this. I overstepped the bounds of your loyalty to me.”

After a very long moment, during which the knight outside was knocked from the thatched roof by the heavy sheet in a gust of wind, Merlin said, “Loyalty isn’t why I did it. All I’ve suffered from is wet knees.”

Arthur thought about this while a small group of people crowded the knight on the ground outside. “I’m the one who got on my knees.”

“And I had to clean your trousers after,” said Merlin, mouth curving. He was very close. “Thoughtless of you.”

Arthur’s mind filled with the memory of the cold earth under his knees, snow deep, Merlin’s cock weighing hot and hard on his tongue. He caught his breath and met Merlin’s eye and said, “I’ll try to accommodate your needs better next time. Do be sure to inform me what you have in mind.”

Merlin’s eyes darkened, like he already had some ideas.

Merlin and Arthur entered the caves that supplied a large part of the citadel’s water at dusk, ears still ringing with Gaius’s instructions. The water was high and the walls were gleaming with melting snow and ice, and Arthur very much didn't like the thought of getting trapped in here if the weather continued.

It was a long walk down to the river that ran below the citadel. Arthur thought he should have sent knights down here before now, although frankly he wasn’t sure who he could have found to do so.

They made their way down and down, and eventually they found they were walking not on wet rock but along a flooded path alongside the river. The water rushed up to their ankles in places, and Gaius hadn’t really made clear how far down they should go but Arthur assumed it needed to be at least until they started swimming.

A mile on, the caves levelled out. “Try not to fall in,” said Arthur to Merlin behind him, staring at the deep, racing water below. “I hate funerals.”

“I won’t if you won’t,” said Merlin, and they continued inside.

Some way in, the darkness crisp and complete but for the torch Arthur carried, they came to a wide stretch of cave with the eddying water nearly entirely obscured by a backlog of rubbish and debris. Arthur peered out across it, a mulch of dead leaves and broken branches trailing with the odd lost hat. A little to the left of them was a sodden heap of sawdust, and to the right, the remains of a red cloak had caught on a branch and was drifting in place. The effect was an unlikely blanket of clutter, rising and falling with the water.

“What’s it all stuck behind?” asked Merlin, raising his voice to be heard. “I can’t see anything.”

“It must be there, that inlet where the cave narrows,” Arthur said, pointing across the debris to a hole in the wall. “If I remember rightly, there’s a point that reaches a passage, like a natural aqueduct, low in the cave wall. It must be here. The water is still getting through, all this isn’t affecting how much water is in the wells.”

“Right,” said Merlin, and looked at Arthur with a grimace. “Don’t suppose we can call it a day and give up?”

“No, I don’t suppose,” said Arthur, and set off to get closer to the blockage.

It was slow going, the stretch of ground alongside the river that wasn’t completely submerged was slippery and Arthur was worried about losing his footing if his feet went numb. He grasped the wall as best he could, finding occasional handholds for reassurance, and glanced back once or twice to make sure Merlin wasn’t doing anything completely stupid like needing to be rescued. Merlin looked fine, if soaking wet and somewhat bedraggled, and he made a face at Arthur.

As they came closer, Arthur began to make out the source of the stoppage. A tree had fallen into the river at some point upstream, snapped clean at some midpoint of the thick trunk, the length of it greater than the ground to Arthur’s tallest reach. The roots must have rotted, he thought, and marvelled at the might of the water in carrying it down here. It blocked the river from the side of the cave they were walking along, all the way to the other.

“Look,” said Merlin, coming up close behind Arthur and directing Arthur’s attention a little beyond the fallen tree. Sure enough, the water was clear. “The tree must be right against the passageway, if you—”

He stopped and grabbed Arthur’s arm tightly. “Do you see that?”

“The tree? Yes, of course.”

“No, on it—look at the foot of it. There’s a knot above the root there.”

Arthur looked where Merlin was pointing, holding the torch up to reflect brilliantly off the walls. There was a prickle of ferns clustered on the knot Merlin was looking at. “What am I looking at?”

Merlin stepped in, pointing down the line of Arthur’s sight. “That,” he said in Arthur’s ear. He was pressed very close against Arthur’s back and his breath was warm. “Arthur?”

“Yes, I see it,” said Arthur stupidly. He gave himself a mental shake and focused on what Merlin was pointing to.

A splash of blue and white was glowing in the dark amidst the ferns, the same delicate flower as they had last seen in the pages of Gaius’s book, glistening and waving gently in the water. A petal broke off as they watched, whipped immediately down and away below the surface.

They stared at it together. Then Merlin said, “So do we just … pick it?”

Arthur considered. The flower was more than halfway down the log, a long way over the rushing water. “I don’t have any better ideas,” he said. “Do you?”

“No,” said Merlin, and started untying his neckerchief. “No, this seems like the only answer to me. I’m very—””

“What are you doing?” asked Arthur.

“Getting the bloody flower,” Merlin said, stuffing the neckerchief into his pocket and starting on his jacket. “Stupid to go into deep, running water like this fully dressed.”

Arthur felt some combination of warmth and anger run through him. He grabbed Merlin’s arm before he could take off more of his clothes. “I’m going.”

“No. You’re the crown prince, I’m your manservant. Ridiculous to leave the kingdom without its crown prince. You can easily get another manservant.”

“No, I can’t,” said Arthur, because honestly he didn’t have the time. “I’m going.”

“I’m just as good at balancing on death logs on a racing river of ice water that’s sure to kill you, as you are,” said Merlin. "Why do you have to do it and not me?" 

Arthur stared at Merlin’s mutinous face, thinking about everything that had happened in the last week, and before that. He turned away, swallowing one exasperated response and another. “Appearances," he said at last. "Mostly.”

Merlin’s expression changed. He turned to the water, appearing to be having some sort of complicated internal conversation with himself. Eventually he said, “Fine, but if you die, I’m not replacing you as crown prince.”

“I’m sure my father will be very sorry to hear that,” said Arthur, and wasted no time divesting himself of clothing. He bundled his cloak and jacket into the driest corner of their cave, and after a moment decided to take off his boots as well. No need to make himself heavier, he thought, with a glance at the rushing water, and another at their only route back out.

He turned to Merlin, who was by now very pale. “Keep your knees on the tree at this end,” Arthur said. “I’ll try to keep it steady as I go—I think I’d better crawl—and your weight will help it stay in place.”

Merlin nodded. “And if you fall in, I might be able to catch you.”

Arthur eyed the river. The only way anyone would be able to stop him from drowning if he fell was if they emptied the water, he thought, and immediately regretted it. “Yes,” he said. “Precisely.”

He got himself in position on hands and knees at the edge of the tree, his legs quickly sopping wet and freezing. The log was bobbing in the water but not as much as it might. Arthur thought he might be able to keep it from rolling if he went very slowly.

He looked back one more time and said, “Merlin.”

Merlin was very intent on the log, and Arthur had to raise his voice to catch his attention. “Hey,” he said, and waited for Merlin to look at him. “Does Gaius want it intact? Or do I not need to worry about that part?”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Merlin. He stared at Arthur and seemed to come to a decision. “If you can, keep it whole.”

“The cold might have got to me when I get back here,” said Arthur. “Don’t worry about that, we just have to get out of the cave. And careful not to touch the flower. You don’t want to go and fall in love with someone now we’re moments away from being done with this.”

“I’m not worried about that,” said Merlin, and Arthur crawled out onto the log. It lurched alarmingly under his weight, water streaming up and over his hands and thighs. It was icy cold, even after the time they had already spent in the river, and Arthur tried not to shiver in case of shaking the tree somehow. He shuffled another inch forward.

“Still time to turn around,” said Merlin loudly behind him. “If you want. This curse isn’t that bad.”

“If I turn around, I’ll fall in,” said Arthur. Another inch. “And you’ll _definitely_ fall in trying to rescue me, and then I’ll have to rescue you as well as the blasted flower.”

“And I’ll definitely get a cold,” said Merlin. “You’re halfway there.”

Arthur was shivering and sweating from the exertion at the same time. The wood was rough under his hands and knees, giving him some welcome purchase, but there was the odd bit of moss growing on the bark that made him nervous to go near. The log was staying surprisingly steady and he opened his mouth to say so.

Then he put his hand on a rotten leaf that looked deceptively similar to the surrounding bark.

“Arthur!” shouted Merlin as Arthur slipped, one hand plunging into the river until his palm slammed agonisingly into a protruding branch that must have been obscured by the water before that. Arthur wasn’t questioning it, though, and held on to the branch, eyes tightly closed.

“Stop fussing,” he shouted back when he could, heart beating like a drum in his chest. He pulled his hand back out of the water. Blood was flowing freely down the length of his arm, and he took a long breath before crawling another inch. He couldn’t feel anything, no pain despite the hearty scrapes, and nothing of the bark under his palms.

The flower was now within reach. Arthur made himself shuffle a little further.

“Try to get it all,” Merlin shouted to him. “The roots too.”

Arthur glared at the stupid flower. It was the size and shape of a daisy, and half of the petals had fallen but it still looked healthy. He wondered how it could have survived after a week in the dark. Perhaps its own light—a gentle glow—was enough to keep it alive for a while.

He made himself pick up his injured hand so he wasn’t putting all his weight on it, and reached with it for the flower. His fingers were numb and slippery with the blood and water, and the log was still rolling in the water beneath him. As he got closer though, he saw the same coal-dust effect in the deep water that wasn’t hidden under debris, that Gaius had shown him days ago. Arthur gritted his teeth and snagged the flower. He managed to put it into the pocket of his breeches.

Merlin was saying something behind him but Arthur couldn’t make it out. He was very cold, and the distance behind him felt insurmountable. He wrapped his fingers around either side of the tree and slid back on his knees a little.

“Come on, Arthur,” he heard after a time. “There’s a bath and a fire and a bed with your name on it as soon as you get back here.”

“Is there?” said Arthur, now one hand closer. “My manservant is useless, he probably forgot to do any of those things before following me into this dank and dreary cave here.”

“That’s the spirit,” said Merlin encouragingly. “Though it’s not your best, calling me useless is a bit old hat at this stage.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “And yet, still true.” Another hand.

“Good,” said Merlin, sounding a lot closer now. “You’re going to be showing up the visiting knights in tournaments in no time.”

Arthur gathered from that response that he looked very bad indeed, although he doubted how Merlin could see anything in this flickering torchlight. He blinked water out of his eyes hard, and shuffled back on his knees.

“Finally,” said Merlin. Arthur felt his hands land on his waist, holding on tight and dragging him backwards off the tree. The rock floor was hard and soaking wet and the best thing Arthur had ever lain on.

Merlin lifted Arthur's head off the floor, resting it carefully instead in his own lap. He pulled Arthur's wet shirt open, one button at a time, and wrapped the dry cloak close and warm around him. Arthur shut his eyes.

Merlin smoothed Arthur's hair back off his face. “Looked a bit touch and go for a second there,” he murmured, then picked up Arthur's arm to examine it with sure fingers. “I knew you wouldn’t force me to get in there with you though. Hey,” he said sharply. “Stay awake.”

“M’awake,” said Arthur, teeth chattering. Merlin gave him a hearty shake. “I’m awake! Really, Merlin.”

“Well, good,” said Merlin. “We have to leave. It must have started raining again by now, I don’t want us to get trapped down here.”

“Okay,” said Arthur. He was exhausted, and now that he was out of the water he could feel the pain bloom in his arm. He made himself open his eyes and look at it; the cuts were mostly superficial but his wrist was a size and colour it wasn’t supposed to be and it hurt very badly.

“You’ll be fine,” said Merlin, which did not make Arthur feel any better. “Probably just a sprain from landing on it.”

“Stop talking,” said Arthur, and let Merlin haul him to his feet.

They made their way back along the edge of the cave. Merlin was right, it must have been raining, because when they weren’t on the little ledge Merlin had pulled Arthur to the water was almost six inches deep and almost strong enough to knock Arthur off his feet. He forged on ahead, vaguely aware that Merlin was behind him only to make sure he could catch Arthur if he really did fall, but Arthur was too tired to argue about it. Merlin was keeping up a constant chatter for no reason that Arthur could discern, which was irritating for the same reason. Arthur couldn’t decide if he wanted him to be quiet or keep talking, and by the time they made it to mostly dry ground—a long mile still to climb up, though—Arthur was barely able to keep himself upright.

“Come on, Arthur,” said Merlin. “Just a bit further.”

He was fluttering around Arthur like a moth around a dying candle. That wasn’t a helpful image. Arthur got himself to the wall and slid down it. “I need—” he started, shutting his eyes for a second.

He opened his eyes again in his bed. It had to be several hours later but it was still the middle of the night, the room was dark and the rain was whipping against the window in a way that had kept Arthur awake for many long nights past. The fire was blazing though and Arthur was buried under what must have been every blanket in the castle.

He pulled himself up the pillows. He had a dreadful headache and his wrist was a constant pulse of pain that felt as if he’d put his hand on the wrong way around, but he wasn’t wet or cold anymore, changed into his bedclothes, a pair of those socks Merlin had been darning on his feet. Merlin was asleep on the rug beside him, curled below a tatty old cloak.

Arthur frowned. “Merlin,” he said, his voice coming out like a croak. It woke Merlin up though, blinking into the firelight and rolling quickly to his feet.

“Arthur. How are you feeling?”

“Much the same as you would,” said Arthur, batting Merlin’s fingers away from his forehead. “How did you get me back here?”

“Magic,” Merlin said, ignoring Arthur’s protest and laying his fingers against his neck. “Sorry about that. You were very heavy.”

Arthur frowned. “I was soaking wet,” he said. “I must have weighed twice what you do right now. I should make you a knight.”

“ _That’s_ how you want to repay me for saving your life?”

“Most people consider it an honour,” said Arthur, although more for the look of it than anything. His headache was terrible. He shut his eyes.

“Go back to sleep,” said Merlin, which was a bit redundant. His hand was cool and comforting on Arthur’s forehead.

Arthur took his time the next morning, dozing in and out of sleep while Merlin went to go and find Gaius with the flower. He had managed to save it, pressing it carefully in a scroll of blank parchment. Arthur didn’t care one way or another about it as long as it was no longer plaguing the land.

“Fascinating,” said Merlin in his Gaius voice when he returned to Arthur’s chambers. “This was extraordinarily well done, Merlin. You should be proud of yourself. Also, you deserve a pay rise. And take the day off. Two, in fact.”

“If only Gaius was the prince of Camelot,” Arthur sighed from the comfort of his bed. “Alas, there’s nothing to be done.”

Reports were already coming in that the effects of the curse around the citadel were lessening. Arthur read them and let them fall to the floor beside him, then rolled to look out of the window. Just one more brush with sorcery.

It was sunny for the first time in weeks, and snow was drip-drip-dripping off the roof over Arthur’s window.

“Do you want another cup of tea?” said Merlin. “Or grapes?”

“I feel fine,” he told Merlin again, staring at the brilliant blue sky. “Made of tougher stuff, we Pendragons.”

“So you’ve said, my lord,” said Merlin. He turned to begin working through another pile of Arthur’s speeches at the desk, which Arthur could only imagine was a means of keeping an eye on him. “And yet, I am unmoved.”

“As always,” said Arthur. He lay back, fiddling with the splint on his arm and resigning himself to putting the men through training from the sidelines. Again. 

Merlin put down his papers to watch him. His eyes kept flicking down to Arthur's mouth. Arthur thought about this.

“Do you mean you're staying in bed today, my lord?” said Merlin. 

"I don't know,” said Arthur casually, although he had a fairly good idea. He looked at the window again to distract himself from the warm feeling building inside him. "What do you think?"

Some time later in the evening he disentangled himself from all of the pile of blankets and went on a walk around the castle and up onto the ramparts. He was feeling much better and the citadel was brilliantly lit for the first time in weeks. Arthur supposed it had something to do with the nightwatchmen now being un-distracted.

He turned when a door closed nearby and found himself looking at Gwaine. “Yes?”

“Just thought you would want to know,” said Gwaine. “Percival’s back. Very sheepish, if you ask me. So are most of the new recruits. Although one or two of them still seem to be—busy. Of course, we don’t know how long it will continue. But probably not for much longer. Gaius seemed to think it would be quick, based on all the rest of the villages we’ve heard from.”

The same door opened and closed again as Merlin slipped out onto the roof as well. He looked between Arthur and Gwaine without saying anything.

"In fact," continued Gwaine, expression unchanging. "It looks like you two might be among the last people in the kingdom still afflicted."

"Looks like," Merlin agreed, and went to go and sit on a weapons chest a little way away.

Arthur turned to look out over the ramparts. The city was pretty in the candlelight from many houses. The whole town felt alive again, and in the morning he would go and tell his father of his success. Then he would return to training, like always.

"Nice view up here, isn't it," Merlin remarked. "Pink sunset. Bustling streets. Distant snow-tipped mountains."

"Very," Arthur replied. He pulled his jacket tighter as the chill wind picked up. 

"My lord," said Gwaine, nodding a farewell. Arthur heard the door close behind him. 

He turned to look at Merlin. Merlin smiled brilliantly back. No one else needed to know.


End file.
